Witchcraft
by dustycaramac
Summary: The Doctor and Donna receive a phone call from Martha, asking for their help. What they find could trap all of them forever. Post-Series 3, Pre-Series 4.
1. Laughter

**1: Laughter**

The Doctor fell into the TARDIS, every muscle in his body aching. His sides hurt, as did his legs, his arms, his neck and pretty much every other extremity that he hadn't gotten around to feeling yet. Donna collapsed beside him, grabbing his arm tightly at the elbow and making him cry out, a high, screeching noise that seemed very unlike him. He could feel her shaking next to him, and it was all he could do to kick the door of the TARDIS shut before the others got in.

He heard her try to say something, but couldn't quite catch what it was. He was loud enough to drown out any speech, and she was being about five times louder than he was. If anyone else had been in the room with them, the Doctor wouldn't have been surprised if he and Donna accidentally deafened them with their cries.

He remained on all fours, his head hanging down, as Donna rolled over onto her back next to him and released his elbow. She was crying now, her features twisted as she tried to stop herself.

"Did you see…" she managed to gasp, before dissolving into tears again. After a few moments, she had composed herself enough to finish her sentence with, "…his face?"

The Doctor had paused in his own laughter to attempt to catch some of her speech, but the mention of this set him off again, and he collapsed on to his front next to her. "Priceless," he spluttered, rolling over onto his back next to Donna, his chest vibrating rapidly as he laughed.

"He was going to…"

"I know! But we had the… the…" The Doctor couldn't finish due to his mirth. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and two tears squeezed out from underneath his eyelids, running down his face. Happy tears. He hadn't cried those kinds of tears in a long time.

"I can't stop… I can't stop… laughing!" she said.

The Doctor pulled himself to his feet after this, and held his hand out for Donna's own. "Come on, we'd better get out of here. They're probably trying to get into the TARDIS as we speak."

Donna waved his hand away and grabbed one of the pillars next to her, putting all her weight on it and getting up. She leant on it for support as she continued laughing, watching the Doctor run to the TARDIS' control panel and hit some buttons, before pulling a lever. After doing this, he leant over the screen and turned to look at her. At the sight of her face, he grinned.

"My God. Do you live your life like that?" Donna said, having controlled her laughter enough to speak coherently.

"Not all the time. But it's brilliant when I do! Donna, welcome to life in the TARDIS!"

Donna tied her hair up quickly, running her hands over her face. "I need a shower after all that running," she announced, and the Doctor nodded, indicating for her to go ahead. Donna remained still, giving the Doctor a withering look.

"What?"

"Doctor, I only just got here. Just how bigger on the inside is your spaceship? Sorry," she interrupted herself at the look on the Doctor's face, "the TARDIS."

"Big enough," the Doctor said, turning back to the screen and pressing it with his fingers a few times.

"How big is big enough?"

"Big."

"Then where's the bathroom?"

"Oh! Sorry!" The Doctor pulled off his coat and chucked it onto the jump seat near him, before running towards the corridor that lead to the different rooms. He lead her down it, passing many doors on their left and right, before reaching a dark wooden door that he stopped at and tapped.

"That's your room," he said.

"I have a room?" Donna repeated, looking confused.

"Yes," the Doctor said, looking confused himself at why this information was confusing. "Look, it says 'Donna' on the door."

Donna looked closer, her eyes narrowing as she took in this information. "You… made me a room? I've only been a semi permanent resident for a couple of hours! How did you know I was going to come along with you this time?"

The Doctor raised one eyebrow. "It was the TARDIS. She made you a room as soon as you agreed to come."

"The TARDIS?" Donna repeated incredulously.

"Oh…" The Doctor rubbed his face agitatedly with his hands, before tousling his hair up. "Let's not get into this. Donna, it's your room; no arguments, it just is. There's an en suite in there if you're going to take a shower. The TARDIS needs some work doing, so I'll be in the control room if you need me, all right?"

"Okay," Donna replied, and watched as he wandered off, back the way he came.

He often had his head in the clouds, she'd realised. He had come to her about a year, give or take a few months, after she had applied for a higher position at her job. One could say, the new H.C. Clement's. They'd rebuilt it after it had been destroyed. Donna herself had seen that the owner had been killed, and made sure that the people working there knew it too. She had also insisted, as the bearer of this not so good news, that the company should continue to be called H.C. Clement's, even though it was pretty much a new company as well as a new building. She was just a lowly secretary, but strangely enough the workers there listened to her, and understood her point of view. A few days afterwards, she found out that she had been promoted.

At first, she thought that maybe she would now take Lance's old job. She soon realised, however, that this was not the case; she was just a lowly secretary, after all, and someone higher up than her had already been appointed for that. Donna took _his_ old job. It was longer hours, but it gave her more money as well. She finally felt as though she was going up in the world.

It took her a long time to get over Lance. She had been a lot more affected than she had let on to the Doctor, or to her friends, or to her family. She supposed that in the way they hid their real emotions, she and the Doctor were very similar. Time was, she couldn't get through a day without thinking about her ex fiancé at least once, and sometimes she would have the most terrible dreams about him, ones that she would wake up from in a cold sweat, tears streaking her face.

But gradually, the nightmares had stopped, and she didn't think about Lance as much. Oh, she still thought of him from time to time, but he no longer dominated her life as he had done. She was able to work normally, and that was when she had applied to his old position, when the man who had had it before quit due to personal reasons.

The business with the Prime Minister, Harold Saxon, had happened somewhere in between Donna half forgetting about Lance, and her applying for the position. But she, always one to miss the big picture, wasn't too worried about it. The President of the United States had been killed, she knew that, and when she'd watched it on the television she could have sworn that she had seen the Doctor in the background… but maybe that had been wishful thinking.

In any case, Donna had not been too perturbed about the arrival of the Toclafane, because she had seen the Racnoss and she knew what had been inside 'the Christmas star that came to kill'. But after she saw the President's death, she had a strong urge for the Doctor to come back. Because she wanted to stand up, go out there, and do something. She had learnt with the Doctor that evil could be prevented if people didn't just sit back and do nothing, but did something about it.

So when the Doctor turned up at H.C. Clement's following a rogue something or other that she hadn't even bothered to ask about, and he had suggested, once again, that she come with him, she had not hesitated to say yes, even though she had just applied for the higher up job.

And here she was now. So far, she had enjoyed every minute of it and would trade it for nothing. Smiling to herself, Donna twisted the knob on the door and pushed it forward, stepping inside her room and heading straight for the en suite bathroom. She _really_ needed a shower.

"You still working?" Donna called, rubbing her wet hair with a towel and sitting down in the jump seat, watching the tuft of the Doctor's brown hair bob up and down. It was the only thing she could see from her current position, although she could hear the whirr of the sonic screwdriver quite clearly.

"Almost finished!" the Doctor replied cheerily, although his voice was quite strained, probably because of his twisted position underneath the TARDIS grating.

Donna sighed and leant back against the fabric behind her, wriggling a little to get comfortable. She was wearing nothing but a white dressing gown, and was holding a towel in her hands, which she proceeded to wrap around her head and hair in order to make it dry more quickly. She crossed her legs and her arms, and soon got bored of waiting.

"Are you always this antisocial?"

There was a clattering noise as, Donna presumed, the Doctor dropped something – and she was willing to bet that it was his sonic screwdriver. His head soon stuck out from below the grating, and his face was smeared with black. Donna resisted the urge to laugh out loud at just how ridiculous he looked.

"I'm not being antisocial!" he protested weakly, rubbing his hands on his shirt. It was then that Donna noticed he had taken off his pinstripe jacket, and both that and his coat were next to each other on the jump seat, next to her.

She gave a derivative snort that proved she didn't quite agree with his point of view. "You've got a load of dirt on your face," she stated pointedly.

"Yeah? Well you've got a fluffy towel on your head."

Donna couldn't help smiling. "Touché." The Doctor smiled too and dived back underneath the grating. Soon afterwards, the whirr of the sonic screwdriver recommenced. "Doctor."

"Yes?"

"I just had a poke around your space– the TARDIS."

"Oh?"

"I found the kitchen. It's not very well stocked." Donna made a clicking noise with her tongue, hoping to convey to him her disapproval.

"Sorry," the Doctor said, as he stopped using the sonic screwdriver for a moment. "It's been only me for a little while. I'll tell her to put some more food in for you."

"Thanks." There was silence as the Doctor continued his task, whatever that was. "Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Can we go out for a meal?"

The Doctor's head reappeared, and he rested his arms on the floor on the TARDIS, sonic screwdriver in hand. "Can we what?"

"Go out. For a meal. You know, at a restaurant."

"I don't do that–"

"–sort of thing. I know. But it's my first night here. I'd just like to go out to a restaurant and have a meal. Just to remind me that the world and reality is still out there, waiting for me to come back to it if I ever wanted to. Don't you forget about them in here?" Donna asked.

The Doctor paused in his response, and Donna noticed a wave of sadness pass across his face, one that he quickly tried to hide. "Not really."

"Come on, Doctor. We can go to a nice restaurant, with no aliens, no threats, no massive bugs that are wielding giant torches with the intent of killing us, just me and a Martian. Specifically, this one." She pointed at the Doctor, and he couldn't help smiling at her way of putting things, but he didn't reply.

Donna heaved a sighed and unfolded her arms, patting the towel on her head. "Please?"

The Doctor's face contorted as he thought about it. Finally, he came to a decision. "Oh… all right," he said, sighing.

"Good! Get ready then," Donna said, getting to her feet and smiling widely. "I won't be long."

The Doctor watched as she left and smiled lopsidedly. He was glad that right now, he had a companion who had no intention of wanting to be with him, ever. It was like a breath of fresh air. He liked Martha – he just didn't love her. Donna seemed to realise that he needed a friend, nothing else. And for that, he liked her immensely.

"'Won't be long'?" the Doctor announced incredulously as Donna came back into the control room. "It's been almost an hour!"

Donna looked at her watch, bored. She wondered idly why she even had a watch anymore, seeing as the Doctor could take her to any place, any time. As she thought this, she took it off and put it into her pocket. It was irritating to have it around her wrist anyway, and she had pockets now. She was going to use them.

She was wearing blue jeans, a black top, and a long white coat. She hadn't bothered to get all dressed up, because she knew that the Doctor wouldn't get all dressed up even if she had done. Sure enough, the Doctor was still in his brown pinstripes – although he had changed his shirt and scrubbed the dirt off his face, thankfully.

The Doctor, seemingly reading her mind, grinned and said, "It's good you've taken the towel off your head, too."

Donna smiled back and made her way to the TARDIS door. She stopped before opening it, and turned to look back to the Doctor. "Tell me we're at a restaurant and not floating in space somewhere."

"We're at a restaurant and not floating in space somewhere," the Doctor repeated obediently.

"Is that true?"

"Of course it is."

Donna pulled on the door and stepped outside, glad that the Doctor had been telling the truth. Stepping out of the TARDIS and falling into space would not have been her idea of a pleasant evening out – although it might well have amused the Doctor if she had somehow managed to do this. He would have saved her, of course. She hoped.

They were parked in an alleyway, and across the road, Donna could see the lights of a shop – or a restaurant. She could hardly wait to head over to it, as the night was quite cold and she was quite hungry.

She heard him step out next to her and felt him stop beside her. She looked over at him and was a little surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his coat; he loved that coat, after all, and hardly went anywhere without it. She quickly forgot about it, however, and looked around her as the Doctor shut the door of the TARDIS.

"So, where are we then?"

"Earth," the Doctor said simply.

"That's a start," Donna said, a pleased laugh escaping her lips. "What restaurant?"

"Prezzo."

"Prezzo?"

"Yes, Prezzo."

"I've been to Prezzo loads of times. I was thinking you would take me somewhere… more exotic."

The Doctor furrowed his brow at his companion. "Nah!" he said. "Good old Prezzo. Selling pizza, pasta, risotto, salad, you name it, they sell it."

"Indian food," Donna said sarcastically, and the Doctor heaved a sigh.

"Humans – never appreciative, are they?"

"No, they're not," Donna agreed, drawing her coat tighter around her. "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing. Are we going to go in or what?"

"Yes, sorry." The Doctor gave her a grin and strode forward, coming out of the alleyway, crossing the road, and stepping into Prezzo. He announced that he wanted a table for two, and soon enough he and Donna were sitting down at a table, looking at a menu each.

"This is nice," Donna said, after a while of silence as they both scrutinised the menu. The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing in reply. "You don't think it's nice? You chose it!"

"Of course I think it's nice. I'm just slightly worried that it took you so long to realise that everything I do is nice – especially when it comes to choosing restaurants," the Doctor said, in a bit of a whiny voice.

Donna couldn't help snorting with laughter. "Everything you do is nice? Honestly, what planet do you live on, Doctor?"

Immediately, his mood changed. He dipped his head and hid his face behind the menu, clearing his throat loudly. Donna realised her mistake as soon as he did so. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. There was no reply. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine. I'm fine. I'm always fine. Mmm, the Pollo E Spinaci looks good, what do you think?"

"Doctor–"

"Or pizza. I fancy a pizza. But which one? The Funghi or the Tropicana? The Reine or the Vesuvio? Actually – never mind about the Vesuvio… sounds a bit too spicy… and too much like Vesuvius. I never did trust that mountain. 'It's dormant now,' they said. It's not my fault that it wasn't."

"Doctor…"

"Hmm?"

"I really am sorry."

The Doctor folded the menu and put it down on the table. "I'll just have a Caesar salad. Great guy, Caesar."

Donna was beginning to get frustrated. "The Caesar salad's a side order," she pointed out.

"Then I'll ask for it as a main course," the Doctor said, tapping his nose. Upon seeing the look on Donna's face, he plastered a fake smile on and added, "I'm _fine_."

Donna opened her mouth to say more, when the waiter came over and began to take their orders. True to his word, the Doctor asked for the Caesar salad as a main course, with tap water to drink, and Donna chose to have a Margherita with lemonade. The waiter took their menus and walked off, leaving them alone once more. Donna knew better than to keep on pressing the Doctor about his mood – the moment had long since passed.

"You've got money this time?" she asked.

The Doctor felt about his person before pulling out a wallet from his outside jacket pocket. "Yes," he said, brandishing it at her. "I realised that I might need one after that incident with the Racnoss. Someone kept screaming 'pockets' at me. Can't think who…"

Donna laughed a little, before sobering up. He was even more temperamental than her. Would she ever get used to this? The Doctor carefully replaced the wallet in his pocket.

"What have you been doing since last Christmas, then? When we met, I mean."

The Doctor got that hazy look in his eyes again almost immediately, as if he was far, far away. He looked across at another table. "This and that," he murmured.

"What about when the President was assassinated?" Donna pressed, mindful of the Doctor's sour mood. "Were you there?"

The Doctor looked back at her, and replied in that broken voice he used when memories he didn't like were stirring in his head and becoming a lot more real. "Yep."

Donna nodded, and lapsed into silence as she decided not to press this particular issue any further. When their meal came, she dug in quite happily. The Doctor was a lot slower at eating, but he certainly didn't have better table manners. At one point, he dipped his finger into the sauce that came with his Caesar salad, and Donna couldn't help it; she burst out laughing.

The Doctor had his finger in his mouth as he began to laugh too, and soon they were laughing so hard that they couldn't stop; again. Donna realised that this quite uncontrollably at some of the stupidest things.

It took a while for their giggles to subside, and by then they were attracting quite a lot of attention. Donna leant over and poked him in the chest, before jerking her head at a table of girls near them. "I think those teenagers are checking you out."would become quite common in the TARDIS if it was just the two of them. They seemed to laugh

The Doctor gave her a smile and went back to eating his salad. Pleased, Donna finished off her pizza. They talked and they laughed and all in all, they both had an excellent time. When they headed back to the TARDIS, their spirits were high. They were happy, but tired.

"I'm exhausted," Donna announced. "Who knew you could have such a great night without getting smashed?"

The Doctor grinned in spite of himself, and Donna nodded at him. "I'm heading off to bed then," she said, stretching a little. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Donna."

Donna turned and began to walk towards her room. She got to the corridor when a voice gently calling her name made her turn back around. She found herself face to face with the Doctor, who was standing a couple of metres away from her.

"Thank you," he said, softly.

Donna smiled at him. He looked so broken as he stood in front of her that she couldn't help going up to him and wrapping her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She felt him return the hug.

She could tell that he had been through so much before they'd met, and that he had been through so much after they'd met, too. He needed time to heal, and Donna was happy to help him do that.

She disentangled himself from his arms and stepped backwards. He was smiling, and she smiled back. "See you in the morning then, Doctor."

Tiredly, she turned back to face the corridor and left the Doctor in the control room, alone. As he watched her leave, a lone tear trickled down his cheek.


	2. Counselling

**2: Counselling**

Donna woke the next morning in a good mood. At first she wondered why she was in such a good mood and why she was lying in an unfamiliar bed, when she remembered what she had done last night and that she was on the TARDIS with a time travelling Martian.

She got up and dressed quickly, before heading to the TARDIS kitchen for some breakfast. She was only a little surprised to see the Doctor already there, his back to the door and his hair extremely tousled, dressed in blue pinstripes and red Converse trainers.

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully, and he turned round.

"Hello! I was just making some toast. Do you want some?"

Donna grimaced. "No thanks. Can't stand the stuff. Do you have any cereal?"

The Doctor nodded and turned back around, tapping a cupboard to his right with his foot and saying, "In there."

Donna crouched down beside him and pulled the door open, taking out a box of Shreddies and a bowl. She set both of these down on the table in the middle of the room and headed to the fridge to collect some milk. When she turned round, the Doctor was holding a spoon out in front of him for her.

She took it from him and smiled, uttering a word of thanks. He said nothing and went back to standing by the toaster, his elbow resting on the surface and his head in his hand as he waited for his breakfast to be ready.

"Some things you just can't do, am I right?" Donna questioned, slightly amused at how the Doctor had a magnificent time machine and could travel wherever he wanted, and yet he had to wait for his toast to pop. She poured the milk into her bowl, having already put the Shreddies in there, and sat at the table.

"I know, you're quite right," the Doctor said, feigning misery, "it constantly gets me down."

Donna laughed and began to eat, watching the Doctor from across the table. Suddenly, a popping noise filled the room and the Doctor reached forward to take the toast out. He winced as he touched it and drew his hand away, sticking his fingers into his mouth after rubbing them vigorously.

"Hot?" Donna queried, with a slight smirk. She shoved a mouthful of Shreddies down her throat and got up, chewing as she went. She grabbed a clean washing up cloth from where it was hanging on a hook on the wall, wrapped it around her hand, picked up the bread, and pulled it out for him, depositing it onto his plate. She swallowed her cereal and said calmly, "There." She then went back to the table, sitting down and continuing to eat her breakfast.

The Doctor didn't say anything as he took some jam from a shelf above his head and unscrewed the lid. He began to spread it onto the toast, his back to Donna. She couldn't help thinking how childlike he was at the moment. Something had really affected him, something big. Donna took it upon herself to find out what it was.

When he came to the table and sat down opposite her, Donna made small talk to while away the time. It was difficult to know when it was the right time to bring issues up with him, and she was an impatient person, so she decided to get it over and done with as soon as she possibly could. Maybe then he wouldn't have such really quick mood changes. That was her job, after all.

"Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Talk to me."

The Doctor looked up from his toast and licked his fingers thoughtfully, his eyebrows knitted together as he thought. "All right. Today is the 24th of March. The weather outside is mild, and right now two boys are walking past the TARDIS. One of them is the same boy who spray painted graffiti on the outside of her… ooh, a lifetime ago now. I was a different man back then. He's the same boy I made scrub it off. Bit older, but still the same boy. He won't be spray painting graffiti on the TARDIS ever again, I'll tell you that…" He trailed off. "You're staring at me."

"Yes, I am," Donna said impatiently. "I meant about what's happened since we last met. It's like… it's like you're always trying to forget something. Have you talked to anyone about it? How you feel? Anything?" His eyes darkened, and he grabbed his toast up again, taking a large bite out of it. "Doctor!"

He looked at her pitifully, and said, his mouth full of toast and jam, "No."

"Doctor, that's disgusting. Not just the fact that you're talking with your mouth open, but because you _need_ to talk about your feelings, however painful they are."

The Doctor had swallowed the food that was in his mouth and was about to take another bite when Donna mentioned how he 'needed' to talk about his feelings. "What would you know about that?" he said, bitterly.

Donna made a noise in her throat, pushing her empty cereal bowl away from her. "In case you'd forgotten, Doctor, I became a widow on my wedding day. Sort of. I loved Lance, even if he… even if he didn't love me. I still miss him."

The Doctor's expression softened, and he took another bite of toast – although smaller this time, and he seemed to chew it a lot more. Donna could tell that she, for once, had his undivided attention.

"I went to a counsellor not long after it happened. My parents recognised I needed the help, and they helped me to see that I needed it, too. I didn't tell the counsellor exactly what I'd seen, of course. I didn't say anything about you, either. I mean, I didn't want to be sectioned." Donna laughed a little. "I said that Lance had been killed by the Christmas star, because everyone had seen that, and people had died. It was tragic. And it was so difficult to talk about it, because… because I loved Lance, and he was tricking me, and I lost him. But by talking about my feelings, I worked through it."

There was a pause as the Doctor finished off his toast, licked his fingers, and nudged his plate to the side. He then rested his elbows on the table. He looked very tired, Donna noticed, but he was still listening to her.

"So talk to me."

The Doctor sucked in a breath and visibly swallowed a lump in his throat. Donna could tell that this… this was going to be difficult, if he did choose to talk about it, because if he never talked about his feelings, everything was going to come out now.

"He's dead," the Doctor said monotonously. "He's dead, and it's my fault. I didn't see her. I couldn't stop her. No one else saw her either. But they should have done. I should have done. We were too busy talking to notice… we were too busy talking… we just dropped it and let it lie there…" Donna remained silent. This was an improvement, and she wasn't about to interrupt it.

"Harold Saxon." The Doctor paused to rub his face with the heels of his hands. "He was a… he was like me. He was a Time Lord. He was called the Master. He… he was on the… he was made Prime…" The Doctor broke off, and Donna could see that he was trying not to lose control. He swallowed heavily. "He was made Prime Minister," he continued.

"I wasn't the last one!" he said, and laughed, slightly hysterically, for a few seconds, before continuing. "I wasn't the last one…" His expression turned dark quickly afterwards, however. "He's dead now. And he's not coming back. He's not… he's not coming back. I'm alone now. Completely alone. The last."

He was too busy reciting his story to notice the tears that were now falling from his eyes. He only realised when a teardrop fell onto his hand. And then, just after he discovered that he was breaking down, he covered his face with his hands and his body shuddered as he let out heart wrenching sobs.

Donna had almost been expecting this. She'd realised that he had been hiding his feelings for so long, that all his emotions were bubbling to the surface and he couldn't stop them from doing so. She had done the same thing to the counsellor when she'd first talked to him. And she did the same thing the counsellor had done to her, for the Doctor. She got up and she went to his side, wrapping her arms around him, leaning over him slightly as though protective of him. He let her do so, and even slid his arms around her waist and held her close, sobbing into her chest. In any other situation, in any other moment in time, especially the first time she had met the Doctor, Donna would have thought this was ridiculous. But he was hurting, he was grieving. He sounded so helpless that she found herself near to tears as well, but she held them in.

"Why didn't you find anyone?" she whispered into his hair. "I told you to find someone."

"They left me," was his quiet, pitiful response, and Donna squeezed him tighter to her, wishing that somehow she could heal his pain.

A mobile phone ringing loudly broke them apart. Donna released the Doctor and he quickly wiped his eyes. They were puffy and red, and his face was still tear streaked, but Donna knew it was a good thing. In the end, it would be a good thing.

He pulled a phone out of his pocket and looked at it mournfully. Donna realised what he was thinking and snatched it from him, picking up. "Hello?"

"Hello?" the voice on the other end said. Donna looked confused and didn't respond for a moment, until the voice continued, "Hello?"

"Who is this?" Donna demanded, looking at the Doctor, whose gratefulness was evident in his eyes and facial expression.

"It's Martha – Martha Jones. Are you with the Doctor?"

"Yes, I am," Donna said. "What do you want?"

"To talk to him."

"Uh…" Donna looked away from the Doctor and considered what to say. If she handed the phone to the Doctor, he'd only start sobbing uncontrollably. Actually – she doubted that he would do that, but he would sound distinctly teary. Something told Donna that he wouldn't want anybody to know about this. "He's underneath the floor at the moment, fixing the… fixing the… fixing something. Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Martha Jones," the voice on the other end of the phone repeated, sounding irritated now. "I used to travel with the Doctor. Who are _you_?"

"I'm Donna. What do you want him for?"

"I… he… are you sure he's so busy that I can't speak to him?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Donna said, using her 'duh' voice. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't." She wasn't even sure if this was a trap or not, an enemy wondering whether the Doctor was with her or not so that if he was, it could come and kill them both.

Martha grunted on the other end of the phone. "Could you pass a message on?" Donna gave a murmur of assent, and Martha continued, "Could you tell him that I need him to come to my parents' house as quick as he can? There's something weird going on and I think he'd like to know about it."

"I'll pass it on," Donna said sharply, and hung up. She held the phone out to the Doctor, who took it and slipped it into his pocket. He still didn't look up to talking, so Donna explained, "It was a woman called Martha Jones. She says she wants you to come to her parents' house as soon as you can, because there's something weird going on and she thinks you'd like to know about it." She accompanied the words 'something weird going on' with air quotations, and managed to make the Doctor smile.

"You think you're up to it after all that running from giant bugs with huge torches intent on killing us?" the Doctor asked, and his voice was trembling ever so slightly.

"I am, yeah," Donna replied. "Are you?" His face fell, and Donna felt terrible. "Go and clean your face. I promise, it all gets better with time."

The Doctor stood and allowed himself another smile. "Thank you."

"Go on then. Hurry up, we've got 'Martha Jones' to think of now." He left the room quickly and Donna muttered under her breath, "God forbid anything happen to Martha Jones…"

About twenty minutes later, Donna was clinging on to the TARDIS control panel for dear life. The Doctor had come back into the room looking distinctly better after he had washed his face, and he had proceeded to press buttons on, pull levers attached to, and hit mallets against the TARDIS' control panel.

The ship didn't particularly like him doing this, it seemed, as she began to rock them about as she skidded through something that the Doctor had called the time vortex – although Donna knew much, much better than to ask.

"The TARDIS doesn't like Martha Jones then!" Donna yelled over the noise of sparking wires, and the Doctor hitting the floor all over the place.

"What makes you say that?" the Doctor asked with a grunt, grabbing on to the edge of the console to prevent himself falling over again. "She's just being – ow! – difficult!" He reached for the mallet but his hand was sparked before he got there, and he withdrew it. "Argh! Right, it's going to be a crash landing; she won't let me near her controls! Find something to hold on to, Donna. And when you've found something that's suitably fine to hold on to, hold on to it really, really tight."

"What?" Donna hollered, not having heard a word he said.

"We're going to crash!" he bellowed, wrapping himself around one of the TARDIS' support pillars. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but he rather valued this body.

"Doctor, what are you do–"

Whatever Donna wanted to say was either drowned out by the noise of them crashing, or she was unable to continue because of them crashing. Painfully. Even though the Doctor had been holding on with all his might, he was thrown backwards into the console. He gave a cry of pain – it hurt, after all – and slid to the floor.

"Ow!" he managed to say, before stumbling to his feet. "Donna?" he asked, looking around for her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," came a muffled voice, and the Doctor looked down, in between his feet, below the grating of the floor. Donna's head was there, and he had to admit, he was surprised.

"What? What are you down there for?" he asked.

"I thought I'd get some rest." The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I _fell_!" Donna added, in a shout that he knew he was going to have to get used to, and scrambled out. She brushed herself down and the Doctor couldn't help admiring the dignity she'd come out of that situation with.

He looked up at the console panel and stroked it gently, murmuring to it concernedly. "It's almost as if she doesn't want us to be here," he said, his brow furrowed. "Almost as if we shouldn't be here." He patted it down affectionately.

"Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Might it be… a trap? Someone trying to lead you here to kill you, or something? I thought that as soon as I picked up the phone; although I don't know this Martha Jones like you obviously do, so maybe I'm just being–"

"Paranoid?" the Doctor cut in. "Yes Donna, yes you are. Martha's fine. This is her parents' house and something weird is going on. It's our job to find out what that something weird is, don't you think?"

Donna sighed and fiddled with the ends of her hair thoughtfully. "I suppose so. But if you're wrong, I'm blaming you, Martian!"

"Always the alien's fault isn't it Donna?" She gave a nod. "Well then," he said, rather breathlessly, and rubbing his back at the same time where he'd whacked it as he fell off the pillar. "That's fair enough, I think. I'm here, you're here, the TARDIS is here, safe to say, I think we've arrived. Time to go and find out about something weird, yes? Grab your jacket!"


	3. Energy

**3: Energy**

"Doctor!"

Martha ran down the garden path and out the gate as soon as she heard the familiar thrum of the TARDIS' engines. She did notice that it came down harder than usual, and bounced a little along the floor, but she needed the Doctor, and quickly overlooked this. It was all she could do to stop herself smothering the Doctor in kisses as soon as he came out of the blue police box. Instead, she threw her arms around him and enveloped him in such a hug that he couldn't get away; not that he wanted to. He returned it gladly and she pulled away before he did.

"You got my message, then? How are you?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining.

"Fine," the Doctor replied, and forced a smile which he really got into a few seconds later. "Martha Jones, this is Donna Noble. Donna Noble, this is Martha Jones. You both used to travel with me. Or… do travel with me."

Donna had come out of the TARDIS and shut the door behind her just as the Doctor and Martha were hugging, and had stepped further away from them than she felt was polite. It wasn't like she was particularly bothered about being friendly right now. She was worried about how the Doctor would hold up, although she needn't have been, she supposed. He could be so strong when he needed to be, from what she'd seen. And the effect of their 'counselling session' could be visibly observed, she thought. He seemed to be a lot more positive, and Donna could tell that he wasn't faking it.

"Hello," Martha said, smiling and giving Donna a nod. Donna nodded too and graced the woman with a smile.

"Doctor," Martha continued, turning to him, "I called you because there's something really weird happening in our study. It's wrong. Some weird sort of energy. I didn't know what to do, and then Mum suggested I call you and… I did. She guessed that you'd be the one to help, if anyone was going to help."

"Oh, she doesn't hate me so much then? She guessed right in any case," the Doctor said, flashing Martha a grin and running his hand through his already unkempt hair. "Let's have a look, then."

As Martha led them into her parents' house, she began to explain what had been going on in her life since she'd left the Doctor. "Mum and Dad are back together," she said, and the Doctor made a noise of approval and nodded. "Leo bet Tish it wouldn't last very long, but I think they really bonded over that year – Mum and Dad, I mean. It could work."

"Well, it's worked before," the Doctor said, accompanying this statement with another nod.

"Yeah, I know, but for a limited amount of time. I really hope they're going to be okay, the last thing they need is some other emotional trauma," Martha continued. The Doctor was about to apologise (without quite knowing why he subconsciously felt like apologising all the time) when she went on, "And Jack's invited me to go and work at Torchwood. It's located in Cardiff though, so it's quite far away. I'm not sure if I want to be that far away from my family, given what happened during that year. I can't decide. What do you think?"

The Doctor's eyes darkened visibly as she said 'I can't decide', memories of being pushed around in a wheelchair by a certified megalomaniac flooding back to him quite quickly, but he wiped the look on his face away after a few seconds and said, "Yeah, you might as well. Just as long as Jack actually did do what he said, and changed it around."

Martha nodded, and then looked over at Donna. "How do you know the Doctor, then?" she enquired.

"He ruined my wedding," Donna said simply. Martha looked over at the Doctor, who shrugged in response, as they reached a door and Martha opened it, stepping back to allow the Doctor and Donna to go in first, which they did.

The Doctor had to squint as he looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the light. It was a normal study room, with a bookcase, a chair, a desk, a desktop computer, a bin on the right of the doorframe, and a window overlooking the house's garden. But Martha had been right; there was something wrong with it… something extremely wrong with it.

"I suppose you're talking about the walls?" Donna inquired.

Martha looked at her and nodded. "But it's not just the walls… it's _everything_. Literally, everything. The computer, the window – even the _bin_ has it."

"Like some sort of energy," the Doctor put in, pulling his glasses out of his jacket pocket and ramming them onto his nose. "Some sort of… energy in the walls." He crouched down by the right wall, and ran his hand over it. "Doesn't feel like there's anything strange… just feels like a wall," he murmured, more to himself than the women in the room.

"I haven't touched anything since it's been happening, only the door and the floor," Martha admitted. "I didn't want to get into some sort of situation that I couldn't get out of when you weren't here. I didn't really want to get into some sort of situation that I couldn't get out of when you _were_ here, either."

The Doctor stood up and took off his glasses, replacing them in his pocket. The walls were glowing red, pulsating, as if something wanted to come out of them but couldn't quite manage it. The Doctor found himself wondering why this type of energy – whatever it was – would choose a family's study to manifest in. Unless it was directly linked with Martha, and therefore directly linked with himself.

"Best not to touch it even though I have," he said, rubbing his chin with a hand. "It might affect humans for all we know."

"So you don't know what it is?" Donna interjected, looking around her concernedly at the amount of red energy there was.

"Um… well… basically…" The Doctor span around as he said this, inspecting everything in front and behind him. "Not a clue." Martha smiled slightly in memory of when he had last said this.

"It couldn't be anything to do with Huon particles, could it?" Donna suggested.

The Doctor gave her a strange look, as did Martha. "No, Donna. It couldn't." He then turned to Martha. "How long has this been here?"

"About three days."

"And how long has it been since we last spoke? Since I left in the TARDIS?" he asked.

"A couple of weeks."

"Weeks? But… you called me after a few _hours_… that doesn't make sense. Hold on a second." The Doctor strode to the door, which was now shut, and opened it. "Follow me as soon as I shut the door," he instructed. He then left the room and shut the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark in the corridor. When they had gone in, it wasn't dark because of the excessive amounts of daylight that had been streaming through the windows at either end. There had been no need for artificial light then, but there was now, because it was clearly dark outside.

The Doctor fumbled about for the light switch, and found it, turning it on. There was immediately a shout from downstairs.

"Martha? Is that you?" The Doctor didn't really know what to say, but he waited patiently as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and soon Francine Jones came into view. "Oh – Doctor!" she said, upon seeing him. She sounded quite surprised, and the Doctor gave her a little smile.

It was a superbly awkward moment. Neither of them had really spoken since the hug on the Valiant, and it had been extremely clear that Francine had disliked the Doctor immensely from the moment she had met him. Now, neither of them knew what to say.

The Doctor settled with a mumbled "Hello."

"You got Martha's call, then?"

"Yes, I did," the Doctor replied, nodding and putting his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'll have the study sorted out soon, Francine – Mrs Jones," he corrected himself, visibly swallowing. He hoped he didn't have a phobia of mothers now. He hated getting slapped. _Hated_ it.

"And where's Martha?"

"She's… caught in a… it's a problem with time in that room. Nothing to worry about, she should be coming out in an hour or two."

"Coming out?" Francine repeated.

"Of the study. What if your closet had been affected by the energy, instead of the study? That would be quite hilarious." The Doctor laughed nervously, and at Francine's stony look he stopped and swallowed again. "Yes. Well. Not sure hilarious's the word… um… sorry about that. Depends on how you look at it I suppose. Well, I'd better be getting back to the TARDIS… will you tell Martha where I am if she comes out – of the study, that is, not the – the – anyway, let her know if she starts looking for me. Thank you."

He quickly sidestepped her and walked down the stairs. He knew that Martha and Donna were going to be a while; they had spent about five or ten minutes in there all together and it was already dark. He presumed that every minute spent in the room represented an hour outside of it, so they should be coming out a little later, at least, whilst he had to try and figure out what exactly was going on. They should be safe from harm in there; well, he hoped so, anyway.

He headed back to the TARDIS, opening the door and stepping inside gladly. It was a bit domestic in there for him, what with mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and two companions. Now he had time to think about the energy without the disturbance of two people asking him what was going on.

He had seen that energy before, he was sure of it. He just couldn't think of where he had seen it, which wasn't useful. Maybe a quick scan of the TARDIS' library would help him.

x

A good long time later, as he sat in the library, his vision obscured by piles upon piles of books, he realised that a quick scan of the TARDIS' library had actually been an incredibly long trawl through hundreds of books that were now piled in front of him, and that this hadn't helped him in the slightest. He sighed and climbed over the back of the sofa, careful not to kick the books that had been in front of him with his feet as he went over.

Suddenly, a good place to look hit him: the attic of the TARDIS. He'd thrown so much pointless junk up there, and maybe it would help him… no, he wouldn't say that again, because it was likely to jinx it if he did. But to the attic he went, climbing up the stairs and pushing open the trapdoor, climbing into the huge room.

He coughed as his feet stirred up some forgotten dust on the floor. He looked around him as the dust settled and realised just how mammoth a task this was going to be. The TARDIS had made the attic bigger and bigger to fit his needs, and since the Doctor juts kept on throwing things up here, it had become pretty big. No, not pretty big – massive. Huge. Ridiculously large.

He was just about to get started on some of the more recent objects when he heard a voice calling his name. A very loud, obnoxious voice that he recognised to be Donna's. Sighing resignedly, he realised that he had wasted too much time in the library and that he was going to have to continue _this_ task later… if there was a later. He climbed back down the ladder, pushed it up, and hooked the trapdoor shut. He then headed back to the control room.

"There you are!" Donna said, folding her arms across her chest. "What the hell happened? As soon as we came out, you were gone. And it was dark."

The Doctor sighed. "Time's not right in there. The energy that's coming from the walls is creating a generation disturbance. For every minute you spend in that room, an hour passes you by outside. It's… not good."

"But it's not bad?" Martha asked.

"It's bad," the Doctor replied, shifting his feet. "I'm a Time Lord – I just don't lose track of time like that, not without noticing. But when I was in that room… it was like it blocked out my time sense. That's never a good thing – in fact, that's a very, very bad thing."

Donna and Martha exchanged looks. "So you still don't know what it is?" Martha said, after a moment.

"No," the Doctor admitted. "I was about to have a rummage through the attic of the TARDIS, because I recognise that energy, but I can't for the life of me remember where from. Then you two came in and… well, that was interrupted."

There was another pause, and Donna took the opportunity to say, "Look, Doctor. It's around seven o' clock now, in the evening. Outside the TARDIS, that is. Martha's invited us to have dinner with her."

The Doctor glanced at Martha, and then looked back at Donna. Was she _trying_ to make him domesticated?

"I think it'd be a good idea. It'll give us more time to think about what's going in the study, and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," Donna continued, looking the Doctor straight in the eye.

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Doctor!" Donna snapped, her tone of voice sharp and suggesting that she wasn't to be argued with on this one.

"Yes, yes, all right!" the Doctor answered irritably. "Fine. We'll have dinner. Never mind the generation disturbance in the study, where life could pass you by if you sat in there for too long, we'll have dinner. _Dinner_ will be good!"

Donna clicked her tongue angrily and stormed out of the TARDIS. Martha looked a little embarrassed. "Mum's serving up now, Doctor. If you're… if you're coming." After saying this, she left the TARDIS quite quickly.

The Doctor let a frustrated noise come out of his throat, and he ran his hands through his hair, mangling it considerably more than it was already. This wasn't going to be his idea of a good time.

x

Dinner was incredibly awkward.

He had known that it would be, of course. There was no denying that. It was clear that, in part, Martha's mother still blamed him for everything that had happened to their family. She was adamant that without Martha, the Doctor would have been completely helpless and useless.

She said so at the table, although not in so many words. The Doctor hadn't quite gotten over the events of the year that never was himself, so he hated to dwell for too long on how Martha's family felt about it.

It was the humiliation that he was submitted to at the hands of the Master that had hurt him so. He wouldn't say that this had hurt him the most, exactly. But having to eat out of a dog's bowl, living in a makeshift kennel, hardly being able to move because of his years. He hated it when the Master brought a mirror down every morning, showing him his withered face. He had taken looking and feeling young for granted. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

And as for when he had been made into a creature resembling a house elf from Harry Potter… it didn't really bear thinking about. Even now, the Doctor got pangs of pain in his chest whenever he did dare to think about it, which wasn't often. He was always distracting himself from it, always on the go.

And it was how the Master wouldn't let him help. Ever since he'd known that Professor Yana was a Time Lord, ever since he'd realised it was the Master, ever since he'd talked to him on the phone, evenrsince he'd been thrown to the floor in front of the other Time Lord, the Doctor had wanted to do nothing more than help him. But he was denied that and submitted to humiliation. He had been a prisoner in his own body.

"Doctor!"

Donna's commanding voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and a good thing too. He had been slumped unceremoniously in his chair, clearly lost in his mind. He looked up and straightened, shifting slightly in the chair.

"What?"

"Pass the vegetables."

The Doctor furrowed his brow, but leant forward and took the dish, passing them along to Donna and then dipping his head again to eat his own food. There was silence except for the clanking of cutlery on plates and the occasional scraping noise.

"So, do you know what's wrong with the study yet, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up, at Francine Jones, who was looking directly at him. "Ah – no," he said, squirming uncomfortably. "Not yet."

"I think Martha's counting on you," she said, and the Doctor felt, if possible, even more uncomfortable.

"Right. Well," he said, his voice higher than usual, "I need to–" he cleared his throat, and his voice returned to its normal pitch "–use the bathroom." He stood up and crossed the room, leaving through the door and proceeding to lean against the wall in the corridor. _Domestic_. He never knew that this body could be so conscious about doing domestic.

"Doctor." He looked to his right, and saw it was Donna. Couldn't she just leave him be for a moment? "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said in response, grinding his teeth. "I really do just need the bathroom."

"Then why are you slumped out here?" The Doctor didn't reply, and Donna smiled knowingly. "I know it's a bit awkward in there, but I'm sure that you'll work through it. You always do, yeah?"

The Doctor dropped his gaze to his trainers, shifting his toes uncomfortably. "Whatever happened really affected you, didn't it?" she continued. The Doctor nodded. "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know." Donna patted him gently on the shoulder before returning to the dining room.

Even with Donna's caring words, the Doctor still didn't want to follow her back in there. In fact, he would rather have liked to run back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind him, but he realised that that would be childish. So instead he walked up the stairs, back towards the study.

It wouldn't hurt to have a nose around it on his own. He could leave the door open so that he would not be affected by the generation disturbance, and everyone would be happy by the time he arrived back at the dinner table. He hoped.

He pushed the door open and went inside, taking the bin and using it to prevent the door from shutting. He then turned his attention to the room, walking forwards and standing in the middle of it. Immediately, little bits of red energy began to crackle around his shoes. He was reminded of the time he had met The Wire, which had taken the faces of people because it was 'hungry'.

Suddenly, he heard the slamming of what was unmistakeably the door, and he turned round. The bin was back to its original position before he had moved it, and the door was shut. He began to run towards the door, intending on pulling it open, but quickly realised that he couldn't move forwards. He was rooted to the spot. Panicking slightly now, he tried to move the other way, towards the window. He found that he was able to do this.

The Doctor tried every means possible to get back to the door, but every time he reached the centre of the room widthways, he got stuck and was unable to move. It forced him to conclude that there was now an invisible wall running along the centre of the room, preventing him from getting to the door, for some reason.

It was then that he noticed the computer.

It was crackling with what looked like red and purple lightning bolts, and the Doctor was, unsurprisingly, intrigued. He moved forward and sat down on the chair at the desk, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and running it over the monitor. Disappointed, he replaced the sonic screwdriver, bent down to the tower, and turned it on at the switch.

He regretted that almost as soon as he'd done it. He straightened up and the monitor seemed to fizz, engulfing him in the red and purple lightning bolts, which began to crackle around his body. They held him down. He did try to get up, but it was almost as if the bolts were ropes, keeping him bound to the chair. He struggled, and tried to fight it, but he found himself being worn down considerably as he tried.

And then something completely unexpected happened. He felt his body lurch, and was aware, for a split second, that he was being sucked _into_ the computer's monitor.


End file.
